


talk offline, i don’t mind

by singlemalter



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Emotional Infidelity, Feminization, M/M, Praise Kink, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/pseuds/singlemalter
Summary: Max enters a live cam show.





	talk offline, i don’t mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [untouchableocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/untouchableocean/gifts).

It’s rare for Max to watch any kind of porn. He’s got an attractive, sweet girlfriend who he sees often; he doesn’t need the internet to get off, for fuck’s sake.

There are, however, some things Dilara simply can’t give him—and he’s sure the feeling’s mutual, because he’s spotted an odd autocompleted URL or two while borrowing her laptop. Under these specific circumstances, Max opens a random camming website and goes for whoever’s rated highest. Some of the links are purple, and he scrolls past them until he finds something both new and appealing, which is a chore. He eventually lands on _Princess of Monaco_, whose flimsy lingerie takes up the entire thumbnail. The show is tagged as _young, crossdresser, interactive, French, English_. Alright, then. He’s willing to give this a shot.

“Hello, dutchlion97,” Princess of Monaco says, a smile playing at his lips. “Based on your username, you’re either my youngest or my oldest viewer.”

_Youngest?_ Max types. _How old is your audience?_

Princess of Monaco hums, running a hand through his hair. Unlike other people Max’s watched, he doesn’t wear a wig. It’s weirdly refreshing, almost as if he’s just some other kid working a 9-5 job. “Usually forty, fifty years old,” he replies. “I like it. It’s different from dealing with immature boys.”

At those words, a few watchers send generous tips. One of them asks, _Show yourself off for us_.

“Of course,” he says in a wheedling tone. “But just for you, Dewey. You know I love my regulars.”

With a coy laugh, Princess of Monaco (God, Max hates that stupid nickname) reaches behind his back and unclasps his bra, slowly shrugging it off. He lets it fall on to the bed and runs his hands over his chest, slender fingers teasing one nipple, then another. He pinches himself until his skin is flushed a deep pink, looking into the camera to say, “Do you like it when I play with my tits?”

Max isn’t the biggest fan of feminising terms—he just can’t help the way his dick stirs at the sight of a pretty boy in women’s undergarments—but the dirty talk goes straight to his cock, and he slides his boxers down, resigned to a sad, lonely wank to a person he doesn’t even know.

“You still there, Dutch lion?” Princess of Monaco says. He slides his hands down his lacy panties. “You know, we’re the same age. I’m imagining what it would feel like if you fucked me.”

Shaking, Max writes into the chat, _Tell me about it_. He makes a conscious effort to ignore the passive-aggressive messages from other users.

The video feed briefly stutters. When it goes back to normal, Princess of Monaco’s swollen dick is pulled over his panties, and he’s saying, “Most guys I have sex with are a lot older, so it would be good to have—ah—someone my age one time.”

He doesn’t interact with cammers, ever. It’s a line Max refuses to cross, bordering on infidelity, yet he can’t bring himself to worry too much about it. _I wanna fuck you so bad_, he sends. _You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen_.

Princess of Monaco blushes visibly, and Max makes sure to remember this, commit it to memory in case his shame stops him from returning.

“You think I’m a pretty girl?”

_Of course, baby_.

“Fuck,” he gasps, jerking himself off faster, a trail of pre dripping on to the silky bedsheets. “Oh, _putain_, I wanna be good for you.”

Max feels as though he’s about to burst. _You’re good, princess, you’re doing so well_. A flood of comments from others follow, half-degradation, half-praise. 

Right then, Princess of Monaco seems to remember there are still other viewers, though their enthusiasm is obviously damped by his favouritism. He puts on his best doe eyes and begs, “Will you guys let me come? Please, I’m so close.”

_Anonymous has donated 30 tokens!_

Princess of Monaco squints, then shoots them a bright smile. “I’m a dirty, stupid whore,” he reads off the screen. His tone is no longer so appealing to Max, but perhaps it’s just cold, painful replacement speaking. “I’m gonna come on my panties for you.”

Forced or not, the message pushes Max over the edge, and his orgasm hits him just as Princess of Monaco cries loudly and spills come all over his lingerie, their breaths hitching together. It has no right to be intimate, Max isn’t deluded to that point, but there’s a rush of blood to his head telling him he’s never going to have better sex than whatever just happened.

“I made a mess, but this was fun,” Princess of Monaco says. Max nods pathetically, like they’re having a two-way conversation. “Thank you to… Anonymous for the lovely donation, you saw what it did to me. Dewey, you’re amazing, too, I’m so happy you keep coming back,” he adds, scrolling down the wall of messages.

Max’s cursor hovers over the X button. He sighs deeply at his own hesitance: he’s had his share, his urge is sated, so why can’t he just leave? He considers slamming the power button on his computer when he hears Princess of Monaco’s voice, saying, “If you’re still there, dutchlion97, I really liked having you here. I hope you return.”

_I will_, Max writes. It takes him three tries to fix all his typos. He hits enter before he can think any better of it.

Whether Princess of Monaco’s soft wave is directed at him or everyone in the chat room, what matters is he receives a message two hours later—and he doesn’t have the heart to delete it, even if the thought of Dilara’s faithfulness hangs heavy in his heart.

_Hi! I hope you meant what you said back then. I do live shows every Wednesday at 10, and I can schedule private sessions too! You can check out my Snapchat in my bio. Much love from your Princess!_

Max knows he’s fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> My Charles porn is always for Jack.
> 
> Title from _sex money feelings die_ by Lykke Li, which is the official soundtrack for this fic, if you can even call it that.
> 
> Yes, “a rush of blood to his head” is a Coldplay reference. I’m in a music mood today.
> 
> singlemalter on Tumblr!


End file.
